I really fucking do.

Because . . . her bra.

It’s black lace with a pink bow between the cups, and it’s the most enticing piece of lingerie ever worn.

Then it’s . . . not worn. She throws it to the couch, and I’m like a pinball machine lighting up. The buzzers whir, the flippers flap, and I hit the high score.

Vanessa’s. Tits. Are. Exposed.

The beautiful vixen that she is—she knows they’re fantastic. She knows I’m in heaven. She smiles coyly at me, giving me a come and get ’em look.

“Thought you might enjoy,” she whispers, and my dick leaps up, like he could high-five me. He knows he’s getting what he wants tonight.

My hands dart out to cup the beauties.

Soft, alluring, perfect teardrops.

I must have been very good in a past life to get to hold this lushness.

It’s possible I am whimpering. But who could blame me? These tits are my kryptonite, and they can take me down anytime.

“Why, oh why, did you wait so long to take off your shirt for me?” I bury my face between the two gorgeous globes and worship them.

She laughs, and she moans at the same time.

Then she stops laughing as I kiss her soft flesh, drawing one rosy nipple into my mouth. She tastes heavenly. I savor every lick as I lavish all the attention I can on these lovelies, until she’s panting so fast she might actually come this way. Which would be fine by me.

But she pushes me away from her chest, holding my face hard in her hands. She stares at me with a wild intensity. “That’s why. Because I knew you’re a junkie. Now, have you had your fix?”

I quirk up my lips. “You think that’s all I need of these perfect tits, snow bunny?”

She smiles devilishly. “I think that’s all you’re getting right now. I want you someplace else.” Rocking her hips up against me, she lets me know exactly where that is.

I fucking love that she’s direct. That she’s no shrinking violet. She’s telling me what she needs, and I intend to satisfy every last requirement.

I slide a hand between her legs, cupping her through the denim. She’s so fucking warm. “Mmm. I have a feeling this is where you want me.”

Her eyes float closed, and she lets herself fall back on her elbows on the rug, arching up into my touch. My God, she’s so stunning like that, sensual and sexy, shirtless and asking me to please her.

It would be my pleasure indeed.

“Stay there,” I tell her.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I stand, grab a pillow from the couch, and bring it back to her, tucking it under her head. “There you go.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

“Woman, I simply don’t want you to hurt your head, since I’m going to be fucking you hard.”

She shudders, biting her lip. “You are?”

I grab my wallet from my back pocket, flip it open, and snag a condom. “I’d like to. That work for you?”

“I told you, Shaw. I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” she says, her voice steady and confident. That certainty is a hook, latching right on to my heart.

Gazing down at her, half naked and waiting for me, sharpens the lens on my mission to figure this out.

To figure us out.

Right now, I’ve unearthed a key detail—we want each other the same way.

I kneel next to her, hold her cheek, and meet her gaze. “Vanessa.” My voice is stripped bare. “I’ve never, not once in my whole life, wanted anyone even one-tenth as much as I want you.”

She lets out a deep exhale, as if she’s relieved.

Maybe happy too.

So am I.

For a second, maybe more, I feel like I’m living in a dream. Because this is everything I’ve fantasized about. For years.

“It’s the same for me,” she murmurs, as she lifts her hips and unzips her jeans. Like a statue, I’m frozen, absorbing the moment. Vanessa undressing for me—that’s one hell of an answer.

I unfreeze and go from zero to sixty in seconds, shucking off my jeans.

“Come on. Hurry. I’m dying here,” she urges.

“I’m getting naked, woman. Give me a hot minute.”

She sits up, pulling on the cuffs of my jeans. “Faster, faster.”

I laugh as I tear them off, nearly tripping. She chuckles too, and it occurs to me that this could have been a supremely awkward moment. Or a weighty, silent one. It might also have been darkly clandestine. But it feels like us. Like two people who’ve known each other a long time, and who are doing the next natural thing.

I tug off my briefs, and when my dick is free, she stares hungrily, taking a deep breath. Then she murmurs something in her native tongue.

“Are you caught up in the moment?” I kneel in front of her, peeling off her black lace panties.

Then I’m the one caught up, because she’s fucking beautiful. One chestnut landing strip—otherwise, she’s bare. God, I want to taste her, eat her, devour her pussy. She’s so damn wet and slick.


Tags: Lauren Blakely Romance
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